I Can't Beg Anymore
by LxIsxJustice
Summary: "He should have taken one look at the set of the angel's shoulders, the inquisitive curiosity in bluer than blue eyes, the twitch of long, thin fingers and thought 'screw this, not worth it'. Except, the first thought he had upon seeing Cas was neither of these. Instead, it was 'There you are'." When you have little to lose, you fight to keep whatever is left. Destiel Dean/Castiel


**Hello! Here's a oneshot of Destiel angst, hurt/comfort, and a healthy dose of not-safe-for-work. Wing!Kink features a bit, and I wrote it to Ellie Goulding's "I Know You Care". The song is heartbreaking, and fits the characters so well. A must listen-to, it's so amazing. Enjoy!**

"_So beautiful…"_

Words have power, even though actions were what Dean was always taught to 'listen' to. "Listen to the actions of people around you, Dean, and not the words. You'll know who wants to stick up for you and who wants to stick it to you by how they strut, not how pretty they talk," John had always said. It was advice he'd taken to heart early on and it had saved his skin about as many times as it had almost skinned him alive.

Over time, he'd learned to trust only when words and deed matched. Actions alone and words alone could not be enough to satisfy him. If they didn't align, he didn't need that person in his life. Lying was something he avoided in others at all costs, mostly because it brought out the liar in him. He hated that part of himself. The one that said _I'm fine_ for no good reason.

He didn't trust supernatural creatures as far as he could throw them. Whether the books recorded them as helpful pixies or violent wendigos, it didn't really matter. That was what Sam was for. He sorted out the talking, Dean did the shooting. Or, at least that's how it had been. Their lives had changed the world a little too much; just a little too beyond recognition. He hardly knew himself, and he hadn't had that good of a grasp before everything was shaken up further. It was like a rug being pulled out from under you and then forced through a hole in the ground not even big enough for your feet.

Still, it came as no surprise that the words and actions of Castiel, Angel of The Lord, were words he should have turned away from and never thought on again. Stabbing someone wasn't a great way to make friends, no matter how 'in self-defense' it was, but he should have taken one look at and seen the set of the angel's shoulders, the inquisitive curiosity in bluer than blue eyes, the twitchiness of long, thin fingers and thought _screw this, not worth it_, especially when the actions that followed matched spot on with the previous insults.

Except, the first thought he had upon seeing Cas for the first time was—

_There you are._

It struck him now as it did then that it was _these_ hands that were meant to hurt and soothe and caress and arouse him. _These_ lips that were supposed to coax bitter confessions and pleasured cries using harsh accusations and soft words of love. _These_ eyes that were supposed to weep over him or glint brightly with joy and heat when they came together like this.

_Castiel._

"Dean," the angel murmured, tongue tracing the vein of his neck, sucking against the pulse to create a new rhythm, and a much faster beat. "Missed you." His wings, visible and aching with past wounds here in this not-world, fluttered with need, but he would not let Dean touch. Not yet.

"Why did you leave? Why didn't you—mmf!" His demands for answers were always cut off, his questions never received absolution or comment, and he begged with his entire body for an explanation that would make this right. The hours and weeks and months he and Sam had spent without Cas. He knew how much Sammy missed his friend, watched as his Sasquatch of a brother broke himself down inside and out with worry and a fevered need to find and protect their wayward angel. Sammy wasn't going to make it, and it terrified him. He understood completely.

It was destroying him, too.

He wasn't sure how long they could make it on sheer will, but now that Cas was here, maybe they could all get better. Maybe Cas would help them find something to save Sammy. Maybe his own heart—

"I love you, Dean. Love you more than I am allowed to be capable of. I've destroyed the insides of my being piece by cold piece to grant myself the privilege of loving you. I've endured every pain I could conceive of and many I couldn't, and if she thinks she can _take you from me_," he made a despairing, hateful noise. "She can _go to Hell_." Castiel was angry, so angry, and Dean wanted to stop the anger, just wanted to soak in the presence of this imperfect creature that was perfect for him.

"What are you talking about, Cas? Why won't you let me…" he stopped that question cold. Like he was any model of _letting someone in_. There was no need for hypocrisy now.

"Because I can't yet, Dean. I can only be with you like this, when our defenses are ripped down. She thinks she's hurting me, torturing me with my own mind, but when she does I can slip away, and be here. I can be _here_," he repeated, moaning brokenly when Dean surged up to roll them over.

"I don't know what the fuck is going on, Cas. It's killing me, not knowing if you're okay or safe or being beaten to a pulp. I'm going out of my fucking mind, and I know this isn't real, 'cause every goddamn night you're here, and every goddamn morning I wake up." He inhaled a shuddering breath, unable to keep a few tears from dripping down his face. "I pray every night, Cas. I beg Every. Single. Night. Get down on my fucking knees and beg for you to come home. But you're not coming home, are you? You're gone, and Sammy will be gone soon, and I'm gonna be alone."

Huge, black wings curled around them, creating a safe space and brushing Dean like live wires on sensitive nerves. _Trust. I trust you._ _I love you. _He could practically hear the words.

The tears came harder, but silently. Soft, chapped lips kissed under his eyes and tasted the salt of his anguish. "Alone wouldn't be so bad if I had just told you. You're the center of my whole damn universe and that's gonna be on my head forever. Should've just grown a pair and said something, but I didn't. Thought maybe it was just the amazing sex talking. Thought I'd have time. Too many excuses. Fucking _idiot_," he sobbed. "Even though you're gone, I'm telling you now, okay? I don't care if you're a dream or some crazy thing my mind has made up, but I love you. So fucking much."

Their kisses weren't tentative, not shy or questioning. They weren't overly aggressive or angry or bitter either. Not here in this unreal land that was far beyond reality and not even close to fantasy. They were needy and messy and powerful and loving and giving and rough and _goodgoodsogood_. Cas's hands framed his face and his own stroked down bare sides that had no need for clothes. He knew that if he ever got to undress his angel for real again, they would laugh at the renewed awkwardness of ties caught on hands and unwilling buttons, but here it was seamless, and that was fine too. Anything was fine if it was Cas. He _needed_ like he hadn't thought he would, in the beginning. Before he lived and breathed his angel.

"Dean," Castiel breathed against the damp skin of his neck. "Love you." His hand worked against Dean's length, pumping him in time with the grind of his hips, trying to give everything and take nothing.

_Yes._ Dean's entire being seemed to reach for those words, and the action that proved them. He kissed along rigid bone and quivering muscle beneath soft skin, breaking from Cas's embrace to give one of his own. His mouth played against the angel's taut stomach until he could sink down against the space between Cas's legs. Teasing was never his area of interest, but a man could change, he supposed, if the way he enjoyed exploring this perfect body was any indication. He licked along the trembling lines of Castiel's thighs, down to the back of his knee to place soft kisses in worship, up along the seam of his hips, until teasing wasn't an option anymore and he had to taste.

The noise the angel made when his mouth set to work along his arousal was somewhere between a whimper and a keen and _Jesus fucking Christ_ it was beautiful. He brought him back and forth, back and forth along the edge of a cliff, until his jaw ached and his palms burned from leaning on them too long, and only then did he give Castiel the release he needed. He shuddered once when Dean hummed permission around his mouthful and came with a sob of Dean's name and the hunter wanted to weep and smirk and sleep and keep going until they couldn't move. all at once. Anything to keep Castiel here, with him, away from whatever was holding him down and trapped where Dean couldn't follow.

"Cas…" his voice was rough, fucked out, but he wasn't done. He wasn't wasting this, real or not.

"_Please_, Dean." The question didn't even need to be asked. "I want—ah!" Dean took the opportunity, for the first time in too long, to run his fingers through the thick feathers of Cas's wings. They were scarred and still growing-in in some places, and he had to tighten his grip to remind himself that those battles were done and he needed to focus on the ones they were fighting now. A desperate cry responded to his flexing hand, and the angel struggled to raise himself up to guide Dean's mouth to his own. "More!"

They kissed sloppily, hands flying across their bodies like they didn't know where to touch first. "Christ," Dean swore, and Castiel was too far gone to chastise him. His hands gripped fistfuls of downy feather near the base of the shimmery wings, and this time it was a strangled scream that met his ears. "Cas?"

"Don't. Stop," the angel panted, squirming to turn himself onto his stomach and rise to his knees. "Don't you dare—oh!" His eyes were squeezed shut, breath coming fast and shallow, and his cock already weeping pre-come against his stomach. "Fuck, _Dean_!" He'd heard the angel curse before, but _God _if it didn't do things to him. "Please, please…" he was reduced to pleading as the hunter continued to abuse his wings with his worship of them, and Dean had every intention of following through.

"I've got you, Cas," he promised. "Love you, baby." There had been a time, when they had done this and he couldn't stop the words from flowing. Dirty, arousing words from both of them that could put him on his back or have him pounding Cas into the mattress; it didn't matter. But now, all he wanted to say were perfect things. Promises and comfort and all manner of sappy sentiments his old self would have cut out his own tongue for uttering. But with each passing day, Dean found he could stop being that shallow part of himself, and learn to get used to the part that wanted nothing but the good of the world. The part that told him it was well past time that he get paid back in full for losing his life and his world, again and again. It didn't work like that, and he knew it, but this new person he wanted to be didn't take no for an answer. Not if the world and the powers that would be said he couldn't love Cas.

His fingers dragged through the slick from Cas's wing glands and licked at it, savoring the taste that was purely his angel before he slid them down to Cas's entrance, breathing out slowly at the awe of being allowed to do this once more, just once more. _Dream or not, I love him._ He reminded himself over and over. He wanted it to be real, more than anything, but this had been going on for months. Cas was either in a bad situation or dead, and at least with the first there was hope. If Cas was—

"Don't leave!" Cas gasped, gripping his wrist and shaking him out of his despair. He kissed the juncture between wing and shoulder, and licked until the muscles shuddered under him.

He slipped in two fingers at once, knowing how little patience Castiel had for preparation. _'I don't require it,'_ he often groused, but Dean knew the effect was still there. Cas would moan and keen and spread himself further when he brushed against his prostate and that made rushing seem ten kinds of stupid.

When Cas started making growling sounds that were vague threats to ride Dean if he wouldn't get on with it—not that it wasn't a damn good idea—Dean slicked his cock and thrust only once to sink into the tight heat of his angel. Castiel's hands gripped the sheets of the bed, and Dean had a wild thought that if Cas could stay, he would be able to see the room that had been set up with them in mind. He could see how Dean had practically nested (Sam's words, not his) and tried to make their space right so it would entice the angel to stay.

Castiel's whimper brought him back. He kept his thrusts shallow, mercilessly sliding against Cas's core and making him scream once more with frustration. "_Dean!" Begging and command all in one._ "Oh god, please!"

When Cas was so desperate he started blaspheming, Dean never played around. He sped his thrusts, going deep and gripping Castiel's wings like a lifeline, kissing his neck and spine and anywhere he could reach, trying for Cas's mouth until they could only breath against each other's lips and drink each other's moans and broken off beginnings of _'Love—you'_. He reached a hand to Castiel's weeping flesh to stroke in time with his thrusts. "Ahh!" It was like music. He wished he could joke about a hallelujah choir, but most of his breath was spent not praying that he could have this just a little longer. _Don't take him away again._

Dean flung himself off the cliff first with a full body shudder and a quiet, cracked whisper of Castiel's name. His hips stuttered and Castiel threw his head back, going rigidly still before he came and shouted Dean's name in Enochian. There was a moment that Dean felt both the absolute bliss of his angel's climax like it was his own, before ripping pain mingled with it to create a blinding sensation that sent him careening into oblivion. He felt the words long carved into his ribs ache and soothe in equal measure, and when he'd woken up…

He'd woken up alone.

xXx

_Please_, he prayed. It wasn't begging. It _wasn't._

_Come home._

_Finis_

**Read and Review! I eagerly await any and all comments!**


End file.
